Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Georgina of the Jungle Gym

I have started the New Year and decade without any resolutions. The thought of setting goals and then not meeting them just doesn't appeal to me. My self esteem is already quite low after realising I'm the world's worst blogger. Even a dyslexic child living in some remote village in India can blog faster than I can.

I have however decided to maintain my regular visits to the gym. And I'm so glad I did. Not for the obvious benefit of losing weight, that is still a massive work in progress. But for the pure entertainment value alone. As well as the inspiration to finally blog about something in the new decade.

I'm fortunate that the high security compound I reside in (remember, this city is called SodThem and GoMoorHaar) has a small but adequately equipped gym. This is a great perk to make use of as the thought of having to go to the Active Virgin club around the corner fills me with dread. Being surrounded by perfect specimens who never sweat and have perfectly coiffed hair at 5am turns my stomach. So I enjoy the freedom of going to the gym in the afternoon with never more than 4 or 5 companions. And I don't feel embarrassed that I'm wearing Nike's that are 10 years old and sweatpants and a t-shirt.

I don't exactly blend in at the gym but I don't warrant a second glance which is what I aim for. This leaves me with enough time during my workout to observe the others. The last couple of weeks, I have been gymming with the same group of guys. And they have provided me with the most wonderful entertainment, free of charge! For starters, I find it fascinating that they never warm up by cycling or running on the treadmill. They head straight for the free weights and immediately launch themselves into lifting the heaviest weights possible. Not to mention the prancing in between repetitions. I finally understand why an entire wall in a gym is covered in mirrors - so the testosterone tyrants can admire themselves from every conceivable angle.

It was during one of my visits last week that things got interesting. I warmed up as per usual and then started on the different machines. It wasn't long before I was joined by what can only be described as a shorter version of Johnny Bravo. Following the Testosterone Junkie's Guide to Working Out, Johnny heads to the mirrors and the free weights and gets going. At this point I'm halfway into my workout and suffering. I'm talking man sweat (achieved when your entire shirt is wet, front and back) and exhibiting facial expressions rivaling Linda Blair in The Exorcist. I'm cursing my ill discipline the last decade and vow never to eat again. Only to be blissfully rescued by renewed antics in front of the mirror. I had to stop and observe because it was too good to miss. Johnny had taken a break from lifting weights heavy enough to anchor the QE2. Strutting back and forth in front of the mirror, he suddenly stopped, lifted up his arms and kissed each bicep. I couldn't contain my laughter and dropped to the floor pretending to do push-ups, unsuccessful of course. Thank God I wasn't on the stationary bike, I would've fallen off and seriously injured myself. How do you explain to the doctor that you fell off a stationary bike without her sending you to AA sessions?

He either didn't notice that I saw him or didn't care. Why would you when you can beat up every other human being on the planet? I managed to get off the floor eventually after sticking to the exercise mat thanks to my man sweat. I finished the rest of my workout trying not to look like the Cheshire Cat. I already don't understand much about men, probably not unlike 90% of women out there. But if you want to confuse matters even more, go to the gym and observe. I couldn't even flatter myself that he was prancing around for my benefit. Remember the Linda Blair image? Go Google it if you don't know what I'm talking about. No, Johnny Bravo would've been kissing his biceps whether I was there or not. I can only imagine what would've happened if hot girls were in the gym at the same time. I fear that butt clenches may have appeared at some stage.

I now relish going to the gym thanks to Johnny and his buddies. They've turned an unpleasant painful experience into an entertaining, painful experience. Not to mention that the gym overlooks the compound's creche. And from time to time the kids will be outside playing on the jungle gym. I spend my 10 minutes warming up observing them. And trying to spot Johnny jnr. Showing off by going backwards down the slide and standing on the tyre swing.

There's always a Johnny around. Try and spot him next time you are out and about.

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